cribellate | Declan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

[ Whether or not Clary Fairchild is considered a bad girl has been a hot topic of debate for some time. There are people who would swear blindly she is - father in prison, tattooed skin, always getting into trouble one way or another - and others who think that her relentless care for her friends, her love for her mother and detective stepfather, her enjoyment in life, mean she's a nice girl who's just a little too fiery for her own good. She certainly ends up in detention enough for for the former camp to feel righteous and for the latter to fret. Usually, it's for minor misdemeanours, forgetting her homework, skipping class, graffiting her desk. Declan Lynch, on the other hand, is undoubtedly a bad boy, the kind that has cheerleaders swooning and rumours whispered along the hall, the kind of classic movies, fast cars, wicked smiles. Tall, rich, handsome, Declan's a too sharp thing for a place like this and no one really knows where he and his brothers came from or why they're here. They just know he's not the kind you get involved with.

No one really expects the two to be friends. They're worlds apart, Clary knows her scuffed sneakers are nothing compared to the shiny shoes he wears every day. But when you spend a lot of time in the same miserable little room together, allegiances have to be forged. They talk, more often than not, and she finds herself telling him things she doesn't even mention to Simon. Her rage, her anger, how she feels like she doesn't belong. And he talks too, about his brothers, how gifted they are, how he feels frustrated by it. She knows a lot more about Declan Lynch than the whole of the school, and it's almost a startling thing to think about. And technically, no one really knows they're friends either, the detention room their own little world on days the supervisor leaves them to it to nurse hidden vodka in the teacher's lounge. It's a secret, and one that has to be harboured carefully. She likes him, no matter where he's from, no matter if maybe it's a like that's a little too much.

Today though, Clary doesn't even look at him as she's ushered into the classroom. Her bag gets tossed under her desk as the teacher tells them to behave, her body thrown into a chair by the window where the sun makes her hair look like a flame. She's angry, and it vibrates through her. Clary's cradling her hand to her stomach and when the door closes with a click, the teacher hurrying away, she lets a breath whistle through her teeth, flexing fingers that are bruised and red, split along the knuckles.

Maybe she should have paid more attention when Luke was trying to teach her self-defence. ]

Edited 2017-03-24 16:58 (UTC)

[It was a strange sort of friendship. For starters: Declan does not make friends with girls. Declan makes conquests with girls, he scales unscaleable heights with girls, he devours girls whole. He does not make nice. He makes, well.

He knows exactly how to get a girl into bed, but then he met Clary and it was like she wasn't that kind of girl. His father said something about that, once, back before he died. There are girls you marry and girls you fuck, he said, and Declan doesn't exactly agree, because Declan is 17 and he's not looking to get married anytime soon, but for someone who loves women for their softness, for the way they smell and taste and feel, and rarely for much else, he didn't think that-

-anyway, so he was a dick. He was a dick who was then dating Jennifer Blossom, who, fate would have it, hated Clary, because Declan was friends with Clary, and that afternoon, around two, she lit into him about her, and he got into a fight with Ronan over the explosive burst of irritation that he felt, got himself detention, and broke up with Jennifer in a cold burst of glacial energy.

He didn't think that Clary would walk in there and he looks over when the teacher leaves.]

What the hell did you do, Fairchild?

[ For a moment she's almost tempted not to answer. Not because of anything Declan has done, but because she feels bitter and frustrated and annoyed. Another detention means another awkward conversation with her mother, and things are already strained enough, with Valentine about to be released. But the fight in her is quick to dissipate, the more her hand pulses with pain.

She rolls her head to look at him, a frown between her brows. ]

You know how Santiago's been giving Simon hassle lately? [ It's been a subject of many, many tirades. ] Well he pushed him today, broke his glasses, and I don't know, I just snapped. I punched him in the face in front of the cafeteria and half the teachers. [ She gives a little vicious smile before it fades. ] But now Simon's not talking to me, for some stupid reason, and my mom got called in so we have to talk later and I guess I'm in detention for the foreseeable future.

[ Plus, she fucked up her hand. She moves it again, irritated. ]

What did you do?

[He frowns; he knows that Clary's been dealing with shit like the fact that her father (sperm donor) is getting released soon, things that are out of her control. He reaches a hand out, then, palm open to examine her hand.]

Do you want me to take him out back and talk to him?

[Because Declan has a cool and very considerate way of scaring the shit out of people who harass his (friends? brothers? people???), well, his whatever he wants to term anyone on any given day.]

Let me see your hand.

[Please? He doesn't even realize what having her hand in his will mean yet.]

I fought with Ronan, nothing new.

Who? Simon or Santiago? [ Her smile is a little rueful. ] No, it's okay. I can take care of myself. [ Which means she hasn't yet figured out that's the reason her bff is giving her the cold shoulder. Nobody wants a girl to fight their battles for them. Not that she's ever cared. But then Declan is reaching out and Clary pulls her bruised knuckles away from her chest to let him see. ] It's fine, really. He just has a thicker skull than I was expecting.

[ When he takes it her first ridiculous thought is that parts of his are rough, from fighting. She'd always assumed he'd have soft skin. Her second thought makes her blush a little and so she looks to the teacher's desk. ]

It's the Irish blood. [ Declan and Ronan's issue. She knows that much about him. ] Don't they spend their lives drinking and fighting? You can't help it.

Santiago. Though Simon could do with a conversation.

[Declan has no qualms about the fact that Clary's friends are morons, and Simon might be the stupidest one of the lot. He doesn't have a lot of patience for boys like Simon, ones who have no backbone.

He makes a motion with his outstretched hand like he's losing patience.]

Come on, hand it over, I want to see what you did to yourself.

[And he just raises his eyebrows.]

Payback for the stereotypes about the Irish.

Ass.

[ Put she does as asked, shifting her seat closer to his and rolling her eyes. ] Well, it's got to be something. You fight more than I do and that's saying something.

[ Because she's always been feisty, maybe that's why they get along. ]

What was it about this time?

[Her hand is tiny and warm in his. He's pleased to see her thumb isn't broken - good form, Clary - but he rocks his fingers over her knuckles. They're probably sore. Worse is her wrist, and her bends her wrist gently.]

You have to keep your wrist straight if you're going to punch someone, or you'll hurt yourself.

[He tightens his hand over her wrist, creating a vise.]

Like this.

[He brushes a thumb over her knuckles again, but this time without a real reason. Just to touch her.]

Who the fuck even knows, with Ronan.

[ When she sucks in a breath she tells herself it's because of the pain, and not how careful he is when touching her. Clary watches as he moves her hand, a little furrow between her brows, hair falling in front of her face. ]

You think I'm going to make it a regular occurrence?

[ She probably is. She has a temper, like her father. ]

Straight wrist, okay.

[ And yet they're still not pulling away. She lifts her gaze to his face, almost amused. ] So you didn't instigate it?

I don't know. You fight as much as Ronan does.

[He curls his hand into a loose fist, to keep his hand warm, not realizing it's from the warmth of her hand.]

With Ronan? It's almost always Ronan who throws the first punch.

[He leans back into the chair, his legs spreading a bit to accommodate. He looks almost more like Ronan than usual.]

If you're going to make it a habit come by the gym at four on Thursdays, that's when I box.

Do not.

[ She does. ]

You want to teach me how to box?

[ Her eyebrows have almost reached her hairline, amusement curling up the corners of her lips. Her hand isn't bothering her as much now. ]

What if I beat you?

[He snorts. Does too. He smiles a bit, though, the charm starting at the edges of his mouth, easy.]

Yeah. I kind of do.

[And then a shrug.]

If you manage to land a punch, you can brag about it all over town.

Like anyone would believe me.

[ But still, this is maybe the first time the two of them have thought to socialise outside of school. Part of her is strangely thrilled, even if she's not sure what her mom will say about it. ]

Won't Jennifer throw a fit though? She glares at me every time I talk to you in the hallway. I don't get what her problem is.

[ It's Clary.

Clary's her problem. ]

[He shrugs. He knows what Jennifer's problem is (Clary) and he does not give a single shit. She needs to deal with it. It's not his to solve, not anymore.

Maybe it never was.]

If she throws a fit, that's not my problem anymore.

We broke up.

[Well.

He dumped her, it's slightly different.]

She'll probably still glare at you, though.

Oh, I'm sorry.

[ Except, she isn't really and she doesn't know what to make of that fact. Part of her wants to believe it's just because Jennifer was bad for Declan, but a small, quiet voice in her head whispers that maybe there's more to it. ]

She isn't worth the drama, honestly.

[ She lifts her uninjured hand and knocks it against his shoulder. ]

And you'll find someone much better.

Don't be. She's a pain in the ass.

[He says it casually, and shrugs.]

If she gives you shit, let me know, though.

[Declan is no Adam Parrish, but he's full of his own twisted and clever ways to make people shut up. Mostly they involve the trade of secrets.]

If she gives me shit then I'll deal with it.

[ She lifts her bruised hand again, pointedly, before grinning. ] I can take care of myself, remember?

[ It might say something that Clary wouldn't let him do the same she did for Simon. But she's always been a little too fierce and her best friend isn't. Thinking of Declan rushing to her defence makes her cranky though. ]

So, does that mean you're going to the dance stag? Because I'm thinking we should get badges made. Lonely losers club. [ She doesn't know that Simon plans to ask her. ]

[He just tilts his head.]

She doesn't fight with her fists, you know.

[But he doesn't push that any further. Let them hash it out. Let them figure out why they dislike each other so much. No skin off Declan's back.]

Simon's going to ask you.

[Now she knows.]

Oh.

[ She thinks it's like always, like the two of them without any other option. ] Well, you'll tag along, right?

[ She lifts her foot to knock her dirty sneaker against his shiny shoe, grinning wickedly as she does so. ] Maybe we could ask Maia and Maureen too. Though that means you'll have to hang with the geeks. I know that makes you itchy.

[He stares at her.]

You want me to tag along with you and Simon on a date?

I'm pretty sure Simon hates me.

[He just tips his head a little, and there's a smile on the corner of his mouth.]

Why don't you just go with me?

It's not a date.

[ But that smile is very, very distracting. Clary pauses for a moment, staring at him before she scrunches up her nose. ]

And how is a not date with Simon going to be any different than a not date with you?

Sometimes I wonder how you're so smart and so dumb all at once.

I'm.

Asking you.

On a date.

[His grin is going wacky charming and lopsided.]

Oh.

[ Oh, that smile. Clary thinks she can feel her ears burning. She opens her mouth, closes it, a stammering response rising before she can swallow it down. ]

Okay.

I mean, yes? We could go on a date.

[ WHAT DOES IT MEAN? ]

[He laughs a little.]

Yes? All right.

Do you want a corsage?

I don't even know what dress I'm wearing yet.

[ She isn't exactly one of those girls who gets weird about a school dance. But now she almost wishes she were.

For no reason at all. ]

No corsage.

Declan Lynch | The Raven Cycle

hs au let's go.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)